


Fake, right?

by Iwritethisandthat



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Black!Reader - Freeform, F/M, x Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 08:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16014233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iwritethisandthat/pseuds/Iwritethisandthat
Summary: Just another au about fake dating with Stan Uris. * FYI AIMED TOWARDS BLACK!READERS*





	Fake, right?

 

 _ **Stan‘s voice**_ began to strain as his _sweet song of lies_ continued through the phone. He was only 19, yet his parents expected a fully wed son to come home for Thanksgiving.  Of course, Stan had to lie his way through the 30-minute phone call. He rolled his eyes, as his father’s condescending tone spoke over his mothers. Your knuckles hit the wood door, making Stan wrap up his call.

“ _Yeah-_ love you too. Bye.” Stan reached for the door handle, opening it. Walking back towards his bed, he fell face first, on the small brown pillows that decorated the white sheets. Stan’s dorm was as simple as it gets. All the necessary furniture, a desk in the left corner, folders with dividers stacked. A small kitchenet with a single fork in the sink and his bed in the right corner. A white fluffy blanket, you gave him for a _welcome to the university of Maine gift,_ laid horizontally across his bed. You took a sudden interest in Stan as a member of the welcome committee.

“Wow, Stan not even a hello.” Stan only groaned at the sound of your voice, rolling over on his back. You clutched your jacket closers, shivering at the temperature of Stan’s dorm.

“I need a favor.” Stan finally spoke, after seconds of silence. You hummed looking over the arrays of different types of coffee beans scattered over his counter. As his best friend, you organized the jars, waiting for him to spill. _Arabica, Robusta, Colombian...._

“ _IneedyoutobemygirlfriendforThanksgiving.”_ Stan trampled over his words, closing his eyes in embarrassment. He never thought he’d ask something like this and he hope in God’s name you’d say yes. 

“You need me to be what?” Your forehead wrinkled in confusion as you now leaned on the wooden desk, facing Stan. He slowly pushed himself off his bed, shrinking to the floor. Your free hand instinctively went to your puff, fluffing it out.

“Please don’t make me say it again.” Stan pleaded, his hands resting on his forehead. A rush of red crawled up his neck, skin turning red as an apple.

“Stan.” You sat on his bed, your fingers playing in his hair. Something you always found yourself doing, since it seemed to calm him and his internal demons. Behind Stan’s occasional smiles, his eyes seemed to wonder off as you spoke to him sometimes. You definitely noticed his addiction to coffee, though at first thinking it was just a normal college routine but even on the weekdays, you’d find him awake at all hours. You made a mental note to ask him what’s going on.

“I need you to be my girlfriend for Thanksgiving.” You chocked, blinking rapidly your eyes looked around his room.

“You owe me.” Stan added,

"But-"

"Yes." Stan interrupted you, tilting his head back to look at you. His hair faintly touched your thigh. Turning towards you on the floor, he leaned against his knee.

“Fine-“

“Wait, really?” Stan gaze snapped towards you rather than past you, taking in your willingness. He squinted at you, thinking you were joking.

“Yeah, there was no way I was going to pass that Physics test without your help. So, what’s our story?” You sat Criss cross on the fluffy white spread on Stan’s bed. Listening to Stan’s plan, you made sure to remind yourself to pack the most modest clothing you owed.

 

* * *

 

Sitting in the cozy car, you repeated the plan Stan told you days prior.

“We’ve been together for a year. We met at a coffee shop-“

“We met at a tea café.” Stan corrected you, his hands grew tense on the steering wheel. He made a sharp turn, beginning to speed down as he got on the highway.

“Relax Stan, I doubt those details will even be that important.” You wrinkled your nose at the recognition of Stan’s cologne. _Vanilla_.

Stan only groaned in response, looking out the window. Adjusting your seat back, you fell into a peaceful sleep. _The only peace you were getting through out this trip._


End file.
